Allergies & Annoyances

More than one of my family members–the people who raised me, encouraged me to spread my wings, watched me bloom into this magnificent woman that I am–would like for me to just be quiet. They have unfollowed me, disengaged from me, are disappointed in me, afraid of me.

I will not be quiet about my disgust about what is happening in my country right now. I will never be quiet about the ideals I wish my country to uphold. I will never be quiet about demanding respect for the disenfranchised and marginalized.

I will not be quiet. Even if you aren’t reading this anymore.

I will not be quiet.

Bystanders are quiet. Quiet is how genocides happen. Polite is how holocausts happen. Nice is how evil gets in. We fight evil with love, not with nice. For anyone who has been a parent, you know that love does not always mean nice. Tough love. It’s not only hard on the recipient.

You should be outraged about the things our people are doing to others. We destroy each other in so many ways over and over again. We have to stop. We must be better ancestors.

I don’t care if I make you uncomfortable or if you stop following me, or whatever. I will search for every single way to say this until people start to listen. I will not be ashamed for my actions. I do not feel shame to tell every single bit of my truth. I have made the offer before, and I will do it again. Ask me anything. I am an open book. We have to be open to telling the truth to each other. I believe that is our only way forward. I know I am nobody from nowhere, that people don’t know my name yet. Why should you care about my truth? I admit that I am fallible, and making mistakes is normal, but that we must always do our best, for that is when goodness is returned to us.

When I say goodness I do not mean politeness. I do not mean niceness.

I mean honesty, kindness. Fucking dignity. Polite is bullshit. Polite is what got so many of us to think Obama’s being President meant we weren’t racist anymore. Polite is what drove those KKK motherfuckers, those fucking neo-nazis underground so the rest of us could not HATE on them. Instead, they have been infiltrating our system from within. They have had the time and space to redesign their brand to make it more palatable.

Being nice can suck my balls.

If you’re reading this, you have one week to get your ballot in. We must put an end to this nonsense.

Follow black women. Support businesses owned by black women. Invest in them, personally. You say you are too busy and don’t have time to get involved, but would just ”write a check” if you could. Here’s a link. Did you donate?

I know I’m being bold right now, and if you’re reading this, maybe you are nodding in agreement, or maybe you don’t like my tone, but fuck that shit. We women have been too polite, and it costs us too much; We need to speak up and say every. single. Thing. We need to do a better job of educating everyone about their options and make participating in this so-called democracy easy. We are at the place in history when it is time to get America right. WE, The PEOPLE are stronger than The government. The government is broken. I think most of us can agree that neither “SIDE” has it right.

The system is broken.

Don’t be part of it by subscribing to “your party” without thinking about what they really represent, who represents/sponsors them. Choose people who will support democracy, will support your values.

The most fundamental part about being American is WE THE PEOPLE.

THAT’S why we have the 2nd amendment, so we can defend ourselves against our government. Not against our neighbors.

Let’s make sure to raise up the people who are going to be best for each state government and come together to make real changes happen. There are so many ways to support leaders, and now, when we can activate and engage and elect the best leaders for the future of our nation. The future we want our children to be brought up in (not the one our parents were brought up in.)

People want us all to be polite and PC instead of being honest and kind. Fuck that shit. You know what honest and kind leads to? True compromise. Uncorrupted compromise. If we were all honest and kind, (instead of hiding behind being nice and polite) we could actually promote and achieve equity in our society,…….instead we are encouraged by our leaders (in both parties) to to be mean and cruel and evil and unhealthy. They want us to fight with each other. They want us to feel desperate so they can control us with their money and their hidden agenda. WAKE UP, PEOPLE!!!!! Take our country back from career politicians, white nationalists, from old men.

I believe so much in a better world. I can see it. I daydream about it. I write about it. Yet, when I check in with my body, I realize my shoulders are up next to my ears in stress or my breath is caught in my throat with worry. When I look at the world around me, the society around me, I know that we are a far way from that world of my dreams…when I think about our history, I see that we have changed, but I am not convinced we are better, so maybe it’s just that we are still changing. Still evolving.

It’s like the United States is a person in their late teens/early 20s, someone just beginning therapy, trying to break their bad habits/survival techniques while simultaneously finding new ways to self-sabotage and occasionally relapsing back into some truly terrible behaviors like being a racist, and realizing that they were abused by their uncle (Sam) and might have sort of pushed someone too far by not taking no for an answer soon enough. (Kavanaugh, cough, cough)

I’m a pretty fucking positive person, but I also have some dark/morbid fears about our world. I’m a realist, and my door is cracked open to conspiracies; People are fuuuuuuucked up. I’ve been through some shit, but I don’t let it get me down. I carry on with my head held high. Some say high-horse high, but all the better for them to kiss my ass. I’m tired of being polite. Let’s be real.

I am positive it’s the only way we are going to get over this shit. I could carry on about my ideas to save the world all day, but I’m out there trying to do it instead. Sometimes it doesn’t look how we expect it to, but one thing I’ve learned is to let go of expectations and follow the path. I know my path has been far less difficult than many because I was born a white woman in the U.S. I know most people can’t take time off work to explore their path and recharge after just 8 years of teaching. I worked very hard throughout school and won many generous college scholarships. Because of these awards, as well as need-based assistance, I was able to graduate college with far less debt than most people of my generation. I have no children and no pets (though I really want both!). I don’t own a car, so no car insurance, nor any property, and I live in a small apartment that’s attached to my father’s workshop/garage (he’s a farmer), so my expenses are quite minimal.

After Trump was elected, I fell into a depression. I didn’t think it was really going to happen. I really thought Hillary Clinton would beat him. A fear nestled and an anger hatched inside me that morning. I had moved to Brazil just 4 months before the election, before President Trump happened, and after I got through the sadness and the denial, I got angry, and I wanted to move back to the U.S. to take action. I couldn’t though, because I was there on a two-year contract which I would not break. I made the most of my time there, but I felt very far removed, far away from a great many problems which I wanted to….want to… be a part of solving.

I wanted to be there marching on Jan. 21, 2017. I wanted to attend the Black Lives Matter meetings, the NoDAPL protest, all of it. I wanted everyone to understand how terrible I felt about a country which could elect just a bad man. I don’t care if you don’t like Obama, but you cannot honestly say that he was bad unless you are brainwashed.

He had to be extra good in order to win that seat because no black person could get anywhere in this country with a record like Trump’s.

There was this illusion that the U.S. wasn’t racist anymore. Hooray. And then we turned around and gave the seat back to a bad white man, whose past we would have never forgiven on the transcript of a black man. Black men have been murdered for doing far less disrespectful things to white women than Trump has done to his own daughters and wives.

If you do not support Kaepernick’s stance, you are a coward who would have also probably supported slavery. Punishing a black man for a peaceful protest and calling it protesting disrespect of the flag/soldiers when white people break the flag laws all the time, is downright racist.

Punishing black people or any people of color more harshly for anything a white man does is racism.

Insisting Kavanaugh was just a kid at 17 and shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions but consistently charging black youth as adults for a variety of broken laws, is fucking racism.

I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of the polite people who have paved the way for the world we live in now. Wake the fuck up. Get engaged. Vote those racist assholes out of office. Take back the House. Speak out to and against the racist and bigoted people in your life. We must stop them.

It’s strange to think about all the time I spent driving around parking lots searching for the closest spot to the entrance of the store or business. The number of times I drove around the block to the mailbox, or drove from my house to a gym where I paid a membership to exercise, to avoid taking the steps… embarrases me now that I’m living car-free, and gym-membership-free. Instead of taking my time to find a good parking stop, I take walks, I take the stairs (up to my 10th floor apartment) and I take much less for granted.

But this isn’t about me.

It’s about you.

Yes, you. You have the choice to also take those extra steps to make a change for the better. To move in the direction of a better you and a better world. A world where people are treated fairly. Because this whole equal thing doesn’t seem to be working, let’s try fair.

I used to think it was all about equality. That’s what sounds right. It’s what we claim to stand on as Americans, but it’s bullshit. Yes, I want people to have equal access to important things, (clean water, healthy food, safety, love, education–to name a few) but I have become far too aware in my life that people are not, in fact, equal.

from everydayfeminism.com

But everyone deserves just, unbiased treatment. We deserve fairness.

I know my posts are usually sharing about me, my life, my problems, but I’m going to ask something of you today. I’m going to ask that if you have a “box” and you don’t NEED it, that you share it with someone who does.

The United States of America has a long and ugly history of holding down the underdogs, even pushing them down, but it’s time to stop this nonsense. Native Americans from North Dakota are embedded in a fight for equity right now….again….still. Black people are being persecuted for taking a stand….no, a knee…. against the injustice they continue to face, while people like Brock Turner and William Bruce Ray receive preferential treatment for their deplorable actions.

My best friend, Lindsey Tarr, who by no coincidence is one of the most caring and driven people I know, is just one of thousands of people getting involved in the fight for human rights. She is about to embark on a journey to the Standing Rock Sioux reservation to help find a solution to the problem, which stems from energy needs causing a major potential risk in contaminating a water source that feeds into about a dozen states. You can read more about it here on her blog, or here, here, orhere if you don’t know much about it YET, or want to know MORE. And please check out the list of things the protesters need to help equip these fighters for rights with stamina and endurance (with a side of hope). Maybe you can’t go join them, but you can help in other ways. And you should help if you are able. Please. If you or anyone you know is interested in getting more involved, please email her directly at lindsey@lindseylouonthemove.org. She is departing on Oct. 8th from San Diego.

I wish she had such a cool vehicle. If you have one of these to spare, please let her borrow it! 🙂

Now, I know that many of you are not passionate about this. I know that not everyone feels called to help with other people’s problems. I know that not everyone was lucky enough to be chosen to attend life-changing and eye-opening opportunities like HOBY, a leadership and diversity experience that fueled my passion for standing up for those who need support. Not everyone has been exposed to opportunities or challenges to make them socially-conscious (herein is a root of the problems), but that doesn’t mean it’s too late, and I know you have it inside you.

HOBY elevated my awareness of the injustices faced by minorities; it inspired me to become a lifelong advocate for minorities, including black people and the LGBTQ+ community–who I had little exposure to/awareness of at that point in my life; my experiences with HOBY ignited my desire to tear down the walls people build around one another in our very own communities, walls we build out of hate, fear, bias (conscious and unconscious) and ignorance. I hope that I might inspire you to gain the same desire

I have learned many times over throughout my life and as a teacher that WE ALL must work together to build each other up if we are going to move forward. So, again, if you have a box and don’t need one, please give it to those who do.

Maybe you have no strong feelings about what’s going on in North Dakota because it’s not going to affect you personally. Maybe you think the media is blowing things out of proportion with any or all of the racially charged issues so many are facing. If that’s true of your feelings, I implore you to educate yourself more by reading a variety of sources and breaking out of your comfort zone. I already shared this article on my facebook page, but this would be a good place to start. Feeling uncomfortable in the face of all of this political turmoil is what I would expect you to feel, (and it’s better than apathy) and it shows me you are capable of understanding where these minority groups are coming from in their dissatisfaction with the state of things in the U.S. right now. And maybe, as you read this, you are thinking that it doesn’t sound like I’m speaking to you; maybe you know someone who does need to hear this–please share it with them. We ALL must help one another to solve these problems. I’m not saying I have the solution, but I believe it’s out there and will be discovered once our walls come down.

I’m going to be following Lindsey’s journey to North Dakota and do everything I can from Brazil to help with this major moment in American history to take one more step towards fairness and human rights. What I’m asking is that you do the same from wherever you are.

In some ways it feels to me like people in the U.S. are doing what I used to do: taking the long way around by car to avoid standing up and doing what’s best…doing whatever it takes to avoid walking towards the solution…making it harder on themselves in the long-run because being comfortable in the moment seems better. Whether you walk or MARCH, go strongly forward in the direction of equity. #NoDAPL

I am grateful to be living somewhere that allows me to walk places for the first time in my life. From my home to restaurants, markets, the mall, and the park, I can get around by foot.

SONY DSC

Growing up in the country, then living in Denver suburbs, meant a lot of time in a car on straight, flat roads. Even when I did live in Denver, not owning a car wasn’t practical. I’ve never had the pleasure of not needing my own vehicle until now. It feels liberating not to have to worry about navigating this metropolis, finding parking, or paying for fuel and insurance. However, I do still have to rely on motor transportation to get to and from work, and getting around in vehicles in a vast and hilly city is much different than what I’m used to; I’ve unfortunately discovered that I get motion sickness. And the customs of the road certainly don’t help.

You know the joke about “stop signs with white around them are just suggestions?” Well, it seems to really be true here. I’ve never seen so many people ignore stop signs. And lines on the streets, generally used to create distinct lanes in which cars drive, are all but ignored as cars and motorcycles cut through traffic on their own agenda. Roundabouts here are one of the scariest things I’ve encountered. Since a cement median is not plunked down in the middle of each one, many vehicles just cut right through the middle, right over the raised squares that mark the pavement in place of paint–regardless of oncoming traffic.

Riding along to and from work on the bus makes me tense and ill. I am still deciding on the best way to save my sanity–watch like a hawk out the window so I am aware of the inevitable moment we crash into another vehicle, or to close my eyes and remain oblivious to all possible collisions. Either way, I’ve had to tell myself: “No point stressing. If this is way you are destined to die, there’s nothing you can do about it!” All kidding aside–getting around a big city like this might just be the thing that drives me out, despite all the aspects I love.

Cooking is an act of love. And being that I am all about loving myself these days, I cook for myself whenever I get the chance.

I have always enjoyed eating and come from a family who shaped that. While we sometimes sat down to bowls of cereal growing up–in a hectic rush to get five children to school–most of the time we sat down to bacon and eggs, or biscuits and gravy, or omelets, or pancakes, french toast, or crepes. Cinnamon rolls and dinner rolls. Roasts, casseroles, lasagna, steak and potatoes, hamburgers, tacos, stir-fries. These are just some of the main courses I grew up with. I consider myself fortunate to have a family that loves food. It has given me a strong foundation for what I now consider one of my favorite ways to spend time with myself. Cooking is my therapy.

I am extremely grateful that food is a major part of my background, and I can see now that my love for food blurred my senses when I met a guy in college who was going to culinary school. He was an amazing cook. He learned from the best, had a natural sense for combining ingredients, and put a lot of energy into his cooking. I mistook it all for love. I admired coming home to the smell of garlic and onions and I fancied the variety of meals this guy cooked for me over the years. I applauded his ability to adapt his cooking to my dietary needs when I went through a period of severe food-allergies. I doted over the good food so much that it kept me from being honest about the toxic relationship we were in. There were other factors at play, of course, but food was a big part of my blindness. In the end, I became a better cook and learned a lot of tricks in the kitchen from of him, but more importantly, I learned that when you eat food not made out of love, that it can poison you. So now, I cook for myself.

Loving myself has been a conscious goal of mine for the last year and a half. That may not seem like a lot of time, coming from a nearly-30-year-old, but deciding to love myself was a conscionable and life-changing moment in my life. To be happy was my New Year’s Resolution for 2015, and now my life-long goal. This resolution set into motion my leaving that toxic relationship. Once I was out on my own, with full control over my life again, (including a brief stint beach-bumming it in Hermosa Beach, San Diego, and the Dominican Republic for a summer, where I also enjoyed cooking for family and friends) I realized how therapeutic it was for me to come home after a long stressful day, or even a wonderfully relaxing day, and spend a couple of hours in the kitchen cooking something tasty, something that would soothe my hunger and my soul. Since I was cooking for one, I would make dishes that kept well as left-overs. I would cook two nights a week, at least, and I would enjoy those dishes for the entire week, alternating between meals, sometimes mixing it up with a quick salad, or put a twist on something by frying an egg to put on top: always the perfect way to make leftovers taste new again. I also love to take leftovers from restaurants and mix them with fresh ingredients to make them into something new and exciting.

Bean loves beans! I roasted onions, green beans, and baby eggplants with garlic, salt and pepper, and olive oil, and added them to some beans, rice, and pork from a restaurant meal from earlier in the week.

Cooking has helped me heal. It makes me feel powerful and relaxed at the same time (just like good sex). When I stand in the kitchen with my knife in hand and some cloves of garlic or green beans or potatoes on my cutting board, I know I’m doing something good for myself. I take my time to carefully prep all of the ingredients with the attention to detail and patience some women exercise to apply their makeup before a date. I love to put on music and dance around as I prepare my dish. I move to a rhythm in the kitchen that makes my heart feel whole and my mouth water in anticipation of the hearty meal. Finally, I sit down to enjoy my work, my art, my joy.

Cooking proves to me that every situation can be improved. That I can make the most out of what I have. That things change. That time heals. That patience goes a long way. That life is good.

As some of you know, eating has been a challenge for me for a good part of my life. I have struggled with many stomach issues, but thankfully have mostly overcome them. I was a bit nervous about moving to a new place, with new food, non potable water, and viruses we don’t have to worry about in the US, but so far, so good. My hope is that I will have a better time eating bread here than the overly processed wheat/gluten products I’ve been eating my whole life. As of 36 or so hours into arriving in Sao Paulo, I’m feeling pretty good (other than the minor headache I caused by sharing a few bottles of wine with my new friends and coworkers last night.)

My only “annoyances” so far (as my web-designing brother so aptly titled this section—are you saying something about me, Bro?) are that my wifi is very limited: I am constrained to a twelve inch distance from my router right now; however, I am also the only new expat who even has wifi in their apartment at this time, so I really am lucky, and this is a gripe for the sake of griping!). Also, I am not used to the noise of a big city (the fifth largest city in the world, to be precise!). I can hear airplanes flying overhead every few minutes, and lots of street noise even though I am ten stories up. I remember moving into Brighton from a quiet street in Arvada and the noise of the passing train would wake me up at night, but that only lasted for a few nights until I got used to it, and I suspect the same adjustment period with the noise here. Also, I am so thankful I brought a white-noise machine with me in my four suitcases totaling a weight of 231 pounds of goods from the US. Overall, I am adjusting well….but I promise to keep you posted on my pet peeves as life continues….you know, like….intolerant people.

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Jillian. Jill. Jilly. Jilly Bean. Bean. It helped that I was all legs and full of energy. String Bean, Bouncing Bean. I liked keeping secrets but I loved to spill the beans. Bean Carries On is my garden. A place to cultivate thoughts about the things I care about. I’m a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a teacher, a gardener, a reader, an artist, a cook, and an empath.

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About the Author

Jillian. Jill. Jilly. Jilly Bean. Bean. And like a seed in soil, "Bean" stuck. Bean Carries On is my garden. A place to cultivate thoughts about the things I care about. I’m a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a teacher, a gardener, a reader, an artist, a cook, and an empath. I want this to be a place where we can learn together, so please leave comments and if there's anything you want to know, please ask!